


Miss You

by robertstanion



Series: PEIPHQ Shenanigans [19]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bars, Denial, Grieving, Guilt, HHAHAHAHA its been a hot minute leave me alone, M/M, Songfic, johns already dead, thats why it says mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robertstanion/pseuds/robertstanion
Summary: John's dead, and Xander needs to grieve.
Relationships: John McNamara/Xander Lee
Series: PEIPHQ Shenanigans [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764349
Kudos: 5





	Miss You

**Author's Note:**

> any tws have been listed in the tags!
> 
> also this is a direct prequel to Sign Of The Times, which picks up directly after this chapter so it floWs

“He’s _dead.”_

Those words were enough to shake Xander to his core. He stopped and blinked. No. No it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be _real,_ but a part of him knew it had to be. John, being the utter _fool_ that he was, went in without a suit, blatantly ignoring Xander’s request to wait so he could explain, but by the time he was at the bottom of the stairs, he’d stepped through.

Out of anger, he’d punched the wall, and then he bolted back up to the tracking system on the computers. Maybe he could keep in touch with John? Maybe he could ensure he did the mission effectively and that he’d return safely? John went off the radar pretty quickly, and it left Xander biting his nails in anticipation, praying for the best. He watched the screen, waiting to see any new information that came through, and he got nothing.

Nothing except the news of his dead husband from President Howard Goodman himself. Xander kept calm while explaining what was going on, but as soon as him, his fellow agent and the president left the room, he originally went to his lab. Another superior office came in, and sympathetically placed her hand on Xander’s shoulder. It wasn’t a secret that him and John were married, for everyone knew. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked up to her.

“Go home, Xander,” she’d said, and it wasn’t like he could say no. “And while you’re at it, take time to grieve.”

He nodded and wiped his eyes, packing any memories containing him and John up in his briefcase and locked up his lab. There was a war on the line, and he was being pathetic. But maybe he needed this time away? Maybe he needed to let himself grieve.

There was that option…or he could always go and get drunk?

So that’s what he did. He drove to the bar and parked his car outside, stepping in, ordering some of the strongest alcohol they had, which turned out to be John’s favourite. He already felt sick, but he took the glass and began to sip on it. He needed something strong, something that would make him forget about Black Friday, and something that would ensure he didn’t get three feet in the door when he got home before he ended up passing out.

The bar was close to empty. He assumed that people had heard about the threat of World War Three by now. Xander had to be strong, though. For himself, for America, for it would be what John would have wanted him to be. He wouldn’t want Xander to sit there and wallow in his sorrows, and he certainly knew that if it had been Xander who’d been so reckless today, John wouldn’t have sat and grieved him. He’d continued, because that’s what he did. He’d lock everything away and proceed as usual.

But Xander definitely wasn’t John/. Xander was weaker, tired, and devastated. Any remaining hope he’d had for John making it back home had vanished into thin air. What would Xander give to tell John how much he loved him again, to hug him once more, to run his hands through John’s hair, to trace his hands over John’s timeless scars.

Xander found himself crying again. Everything was a reminder of John. Maybe he had to let himself grieve despite what he was telling himself. He needed this time. Then it’d make moving on ten times easier.

Then he heard John’s voice down the bar a little way. “ _Your finest whisky, as usual, good sir.”_ That’s what Xander heard. He turned his head and looked, but nobody was there. Xander’s heart pounded in his chest as he took another sip of his drink. Was that his imagination or the alcohol that had started playing with his mind? John was dead, John was _dead,_ there wasn’t any way in hell that he’d be there.

Yet the bartender was serving up a drink to someone, and Xander turned his head anyway. That wasn’t John, but one of the younger regulars in there. John always talked about him when he came home from the bar after a hard day at work or a celebration with some other coworkers. Everything was a reminder of John. The young kid waved his hand towards Xander, and the physicist faked a smile in return. He had to remind himself that even though he was angry and confused about hearing John when he wasn’t there, everything would turn out fine.

He finished the glass and placed his head in his hands. “Everything is great, Xander,” he whispered to himself and blinked back more tears. “Everything is _fucking_ great.”

He ordered another drink. Okay, maybe his original intentions were to get drunk, but in his low state of mind, he wasn’t feeling like he should. He had to go home, and he had to drink. There was a threatened World War Three in the air, so hopefully everyone was taking cover and none of the cops were out that night. It’d be the cherry on top if Xander got pulled over again that week. It was exhausting, and Xander couldn’t deny it, but now he wanted to get home.

Home. Home where him and John would get ready to go on undercover missions together. Home where their wedding suits hung untouched in their shared wardrobe. Home where Xander now had the responsibility of caring for John’s cat which, as stupid as it may seem, hurt a lot. Blimmy meant so much to John, and Xander would never be Blimmy’s original owner.

Home where John and Xander would dress up nicely and go out every weekend with each other, to gate-crash some sort of party if they could. They’d go on dates, they wouldn’t care. They’d climb up on their roof and bring a blanket up with them. John would curl up against Xander, pointing out the different constellations in the sky. Xander would listen in closely, intrigued by John’s knowledge about the universe. Other times they’d curl up in bed together, sometimes Blimmy would join them, and they’d talk about upcoming missions, or sometimes they wouldn’t. Sometimes the other’s presence was enough.

Missions they discussed would mainly be about them having to attend fancy events with A-list celebrities. Without John, Xander would have never met so many, but it wasn’t about meeting celebrities. It was about taking down the person that had been irking John for so long and watching the satisfaction on John’s face as they took the criminal down. It was the best thing, and those mission were always such a good time, and Xander was always able to believe they were at their safest there.

It was the Friday night by then. He thought back to how him and John had only been there three nights prior. Xander’s eyes glazed over again as a large party of people already drunk came in. The bartender looked at Xander, and he shrugged. It didn’t and wouldn’t matter if he had one more pint of five, because it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Behind them, some group of girls began to dance on the tables, trying to impress some of the guys who’d gone in with them. This was no place to grieve, but at least there was the bubbly sense in the room that had been extracted from John’s personality that clung to Hatchetfield. Xander decided to do what John would do in such a situation and get drunk off his face. He wouldn’t care if he crashed the car, what was there to lose in this point of time? He ignored the people around them and ignored the muffled variants of “it’s gonna get better,” because Xander knew it wouldn’t.

The music strummed up and the partygoers started singing. His head hurt and rubbed his forehead accordingly. The signing wasn’t good or in tune, but what could he expect from a series of drunk people? Usually he’d laugh at that kind of thing, but he couldn’t find the courage to do so. It was nearly midnight by the time he’d finished his drink, and when last calls were called, he stood and left the bar. The bartender placed the lights on outside and it hit Xander. He saw an almost silhouette like figure of his dead husband looking at him. With a blink, he was gone, but now Xander could admit to himself that he missed John more than he was letting on.

Just like that, and he was sober. Or…felt sober, at least. His vision wasn’t as blurred anymore, and he could walk in a straight line again. He found himself asking if his crazed mindset had passed, and if his anxieties about John being dead were over. He knew he’d lied to himself when he said everything would be great, but he was trying to convince himself it would have been no matter what.

He sat in his car and switched on the engine, pulling out his phone again. Consumed by the heavy thoughts and feelings he was experiencing didn’t help. It didn’t matter if he needed them or not, but they were there, and they’d stay. He loaded John’s messages and went to send him one saying he was on his way home before he realised why he couldn’t do that. Because John was fucking dead. And he believed it that time.

He started the car up again, his eyes glazing over yet again as his body craved for another dose of alcohol. Xander knew himself best, and also knew that it didn’t matter if he was drunk when he got home or not. John was dead, John wasn’t coming back, and it was the worst feeling he’d ever had to experience. There’d always been near-death experiences for both of them, but neither had actually _died_ before. At least not in _this_ dimension.

Maybe he should have stayed until closing, and maybe had the chance to watch a drunk girl breaking her ankle while she danced on the tables, completely off her face surrounded by all the people who cared for her while she sang out of tune. He pulled up at home and looked at the house, which seemed darker than it was supposed to. He should be laughing at the stupidity of the situation, how he was grieving the general he knew he’d have never gotten a chance with in the beginning, yet he had, and they’d fallen in love and gotten married, and _shit,_ Xander missed him too much.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from the house. If there even was the possibility that John was still inside, how could he say that he was sorry to him? Sorry for not trying hard enough to stop John from going into the portal, not trying hard enough to prevent this war that could happen. He’d probably say something smart and sophisticated, like how “ _you shouldn’t be worrying about something that was out of your control. Give it a few days and it’ll all be over, there’s no need to worry, my dear.”_ Again, Xander went to pull his phone out of his pocket to inform John he was home yet realised there wasn’t any point trying. He couldn’t even look at his phone now, due to the fact his camera roll was filled with pictures of the golden haired general, as was his lock and home screen. He couldn’t be in the house alone now, yet he didn’t have a choice.

He never had a choice.

He knew shit changed, and there wasn’t anything he could do to prevent it. He’d fallen in love with the world as he was able to learn how to view it through John’s eyes, and it gave him motivation to keep working every day. As he looked around, he realised the island he’d learned to love was now a stranger to him again. He grabbed his water bottle from beside him as he felt the tears creep up again. He pushed them away, drinking half of the contents of the water, placing it back down in his car.

He missed John, but the world needed answers, and Xander was the only one who could provide them. Slowly, he got out of the car, sliding his phone in his jacket pocket. He unlocked the door and took a breath before he stepped inside. Life was going to be ten times harder from here on out.

**Author's Note:**

> 20 Day Songfic Challenge:
> 
> Day 1: Married In Vegas - McNamander  
> Day 2: Share Your Address - McNamander  
> Day 3: Mr Loverman - McNamander  
> Day 4: Miss You - McNamander
> 
> what the fuck is it with me, songs that begin with m and mcnamander, anyways, kudos are appreciated!!!


End file.
